So the days went on, each day lessening the number of the inhabitants of
the town. Fever and famine were making terrible ravages, and the
survivors moved about the streets like living skeletons, so feeble and
weak, now, that they could scarce bear the weight of their arms.

On the 30th of July, three ships were seen approaching the mouth of the
river. They were part of Kirk's squadron, which had all this time been
lying idle, almost within sight of the town. The news of his conduct had
excited such anger and indignation in England that, at last, in obedience
to peremptory orders from London, he prepared to make the attempt;
although, by sending only two store ships and one frigate, it would
almost seem as if he had determined that it should be a failure.

The besiegers as well as the besieged saw the three ships advancing, and
the former moved down to the shore, to repel the attempt. The batteries
on either side of the boom were manned, and from them, and from the
infantry gathered on the banks, a heavy fire was opened as the ships
approached.

So innocuous was the fire of the artillery, that it has been supposed
that Kirk had previously bribed the officers commanding the forts. At any
rate, the ships suffered no material damage, and, returning the fire,
advanced against the boom. The leading store ship dashed against it and
broke it, but the ship swerved from her course with the shock, and struck
the ground. A shout of dismay burst from those on the walls, and one of
exultation from the besiegers, who rushed down to board the vessel.

Her captain, however, pointed all his guns forward, and discharged them
all at the same moment, and the recoil shook the vessel from her hold on